


Logistics

by MirrorMystic



Series: Where The Lines Overlap [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Comedy, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 09:11:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11124168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorMystic/pseuds/MirrorMystic
Summary: The love and loyalty among the Phantom Thieves is deep, abiding, and occasionally confusing, which is why they decided to make a chart.





	Logistics

**Author's Note:**

> My first real polythieves fic, aka "welcome to relationship tagging hell". 
> 
> In which Futaba is thirsty, Ryuji says 'fuck', and Makoto tries her hand at herding cats. I hope you all enjoy the read!

~*~  
  
It had been Makoto’s idea.  
  
Makoto Niijima was, after all, nothing if not organized. Her time as a college sophomore, preparing to take the law enforcement entrance exam, had taught her that things feel so much more concrete once you write them down. That was true for everything; facts, goals, even relationships.  
  
What her sophomore year _also_ taught her was that trying to get eight college students with different schedules together in the same room was a logistical nightmare.  
  
Truly, being an adult was complicated. But no more complicated than being in love.  
  
That was how Makoto came to be standing in the attic at Leblanc with a whiteboard, markers, and one of Yusuke’s easels, aiming to map out hearts that were long since stolen.  
  
That is to say, Makoto was writing everyone’s names in a circle around the edge of the board, while all her closest friends chattered and cuddled in clusters around the room.  
  
Yusuke and Haru were sitting on a wooden bench, prim, elegant, long-limbed. Akira and Ryuji were by the windows, Ryuji reaching over to spin Futaba around in her new computer chair. Claiming the couch were Ann, radiant as ever, and Shiho, quiet, attentive- her sun and moon.  
  
“Alright!” Makoto called out, clapping her hands together for quiet. “Eyes up!”  
  
Her voice held as much steel as a soon-to-be police cadet as it did a lifetime ago, as second-in-command of the Phantom Thieves. In an instant, all eyes were on her.  
  
“Now then,” Makoto began, “it’s no secret that we’re all very… close… friends. There are some understandings that have gone unspoken for some time, and I think, in the interest of openness and communication-”  
  
“She wants to know who we want to fuck!” Ryuji called out from the cheap seats.  
  
“ _Thank you_ , Ryuji,” Makoto sighed. “What would I do without you.”  
  
“That’s what I’m here for,” Ryuji grinned. “Oh, and uh, sorry about the language, Shiho.”  
  
Shiho smiled gently. “It’s quite alright.”  
  
“Why do you always do that?” Ann asked.  
  
“Do what?”  
  
“You always apologize for cursing in front of Shiho,” Ann said. “She’s the only one of us you do that to. Why is that?”  
  
“I dunno,” Ryuji shrugged. “She’s, like, a lady.”  
  
“What does that make us?” Haru giggled, a faux-affronted hand at her chest.  
  
“That’s not what I mean,” Ryuji explained. “Cursing in front of Shiho is like, I dunno, cursing in front of my mom.”  
  
“Ew!” Ann made a face. “Don’t think about Shiho like-”  
  
“No no no, it’s a compliment,” Akira put in quickly. “Ryuji loves his mom.”  
  
“I do,” Ryuji nodded.  
  
“I’m flattered?” Shiho smiled.  
  
“ _Moving on_ ,” Makoto groaned. Steering a conversation with these dorks was like herding cats- they never go where you want them to, even _if_ they look cute on the way. “Alright. I was thinking we could color-code our relationships. I brought markers-”  
  
“Oh!” Yusuke chimed in. “May I see them?”  
  
Makoto passed him the pack. Yusuke studied them, a thoughtful hand under his chin, looking as if he were scrutinizing every individual dot of paint in Georges Seurat’s _A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte_ rather than a 500-yen pack of markers.  
  
“Not the brand I would have chosen,” Yusuke muttered. “And an odd choice of medium-”  
  
“ _We’re just. Making. A chart._ ” Makoto seethed. Yusuke blinked up at her, meekly returning the pack. Makoto saw a hand across the room.  
  
“Yes, Akira?”  
  
“Which color should we do first?”  
  
Makoto sighed in gratitude. “...I was thinking we could start with red, for sexual attraction.”  
  
“Why didn’t you just start with a red board?”  
  
Everyone turned. Futaba was sitting in her computer chair, knees hugged to her chest.  
  
“What?!” Futaba said, defensive. “You’re all super hot!”  
  
Futaba saw the face Akira was making and rolled her eyes. “Except _you_ , obviously!”  
  
“What about the other colors?” Shiho offered gently.  
  
Makoto smiled at her, grateful. “I thought we could use blue for emotional intimacy, and yellow, for non-sexual, physical intimacy. Basically for all the cuddlers.”  
  
“Oh, we should have started with a yellow board,” Haru mused.  
  
“I suppose all my lines will be green, then,” Yusuke said beside her. “Sex is not something I have a vested interest in.”  
  
“Hey, aren’t you two living together?” Ann asked.  
  
“Oh, yes, Yusuke’s a lovely housemate!” Haru cooed. “We’re both of us tremendously lonely people with no family to speak of, so we fit together quite nicely. He’s a lovely cuddler, and a lovelier person to confide in. And I get to provide for him. I’m glad to cater to his expensive tastes in terms of art supplies, interior decorating…”  
  
“...his regular tastes, like eating more than just bean sprouts…” Akira muttered.  
  
“I am regularly dismayed at having to turn my attention away from _art_ and towards such base concerns,” Yusuke said.  
  
“What, like _feeding yourself_ ?” Akira asked.  
  
“Aww, that’s cute, though,” Ryuji grinned. “You two are practically married.”  
  
“Except they never have sex,” Ann said.  
  
“Uh, yeah. So they’re married.”  
  
“Guys, if we could focus for just two seconds…” Makoto sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.  
  
“Excuse me.”  
  
“Yes, Shiho?”  
  
“May I go first?”  
  
Makoto smiled. “Yes. Go right ahead.”  
  
Shiho rose, taking the pack of markers from Makoto and standing by the board, studying it.  
  
“I’m afraid I’m not as deeply involved in this circle as all of you,” Shiho admitted, sheepish. “Certainly not as much as I’d like.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Makoto said softly.  
  
“The board’s only going to get more crowded from here,” Akira shrugged.  
  
“True,” Shiho said. “Now, what were the colors again?”  
  
“Red for sexual intimacy, yellow for physical, blue for emotional,” Makoto said.  
  
Shiho uncapped the blue marker.  
  
“Well, Akira’s always so easy to talk to,” she said, drawing a blue line between her name and his. “And Ryuji can be surprisingly insightful at times…”  
  
“Do you have to say ‘surprisingly’?” Ryuji grumbled, as Shiho connected their names in blue.  
  
“And, um,” Shiho hesitated, before switching to a green marker. “...I’ve… grown rather fond of you, too, Mako-chan…”  
  
Haru gasped. “She calls you-?! Oh no! That’s adorable!”  
  
“And Ann…” Shiho smiled, settling on a black marker. “...well. Do I even have to say it?”  
  
Shiho drew a black line between their names. Ann ran up and threw her arms around Shiho from behind, Shiho pulling her hand away from the board before the line became a squiggle.  
  
“Oh, Shiho!” Ann wailed, full of an aspiring actress’ staged melodrama.  
  
“Oh, Ann…” Shiho purred.  
  
“Oh, brother,” Makoto said, but she was smiling just the same.  
  
She held up the pack of markers.  
  
“Who’s next?”  
  
~*~  
  
They took turns adding to the chart, everyone keeping an eye out for black lines, in particular.  
  
Some of those, people saw coming- Akira and Ryuji, for example, since after years of tacit understanding Ryuji was finally able to say it out loud. The room grew warm with Ryuji’s embarrassment and the group’s pride in him, although Futaba had to ruin it, wondering how Ryuji outran his feelings for so long on a bum leg.  
  
Some of these, people didn’t see coming- for instance, when Haru came up and drew green lines between Akira, Yusuke and herself, yellow lines for almost everyone else… and a single black line, between her and Makoto.  
  
“When did this happen?!” Ryuji had blurted out.  
  
“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” Haru had said, coy.  
  
“This whole meeting is us kissing and telling,” Makoto had to remind them.  
  
“When does the kissing start?!” Futaba had cut in.  
  
Some of the lines, however, needed a little more fuss. Ryuji and Ann, in particular, had stood in front of the whiteboard, scrutinizing it with the same level of intensity as Yusuke had studied the markers. There was a green line between their names, but Ann had the red marker in her hands, capping and uncapping it, wondering.  
  
“I mean… does it _count_ ?” Ann asked, completely serious.  
  
“It was _one time_ ,” Ryuji shrugged. “I don’t think it counts.”  
  
“Yeah, but…”  
  
“Make it black, you cowards!” Futaba called from her seat in the corner.  
  
Ann and Ryuji blushed. They looked, first to Shiho and Akira, respectively, then to each other.  
  
“W-We’ll talk,” Ryuji said.  
  
“Yeah,” Ann said, capping the red marker and tossing it aside.  
  
“You poor dears,” Haru teased.  
  
“Three years of this back-and-forth,” Yusuke chuckled.  
  
“Hey, remember what I said about you two being married?” Ryuji sniped, but he was smiling.  
  
By the time Akira stepped up to the board, it was a tangled knot of color. He turned, catching Makoto’s eyes.  
  
“Bless this mess, huh?” he asked.  
  
“You love it,” Makoto smiled.  
  
“I do.”  
  
Akira was going last, so by now, everyone should have drawn all the lines connecting to him. By the look in her eyes, Makoto knew it- but she handed him the pack regardless.  
  
When Akira stepped away from the board, there was a red line going around the circle of names, linking his name with everyone-  
  
Except Futaba.  
  
“ _What?!_ ” Futaba exploded. “ _HOW COME_ **_HE_ ** _GETS TO FUCK EVERYONE?!_ ”  
  
“ _Dude!_ ” Ryuji cut in. “ _Watch your_ **_fucking_ ** _language!_ ”  
  
Akira smiled a trickster’s smile as the room dissolved into teasing laughter around him. Makoto only handed him some blotting paper and shook her head, smiling.  
  
~*~  
  
Makoto’s ‘meeting’ concluded with a tangled, multicolored jumble on the whiteboard as well as on the attic floor, Akira having unrolled the spare futon as a makeshift carpet. They all huddled together in a pile of intoxicating warmth, chatting, cuddling, poking at their phones, stretching unselfconsciously across each other’s legs.  
  
Futaba was in the corner, clicking through the PC she’d built for Akira during his senior year away from Tokyo, which had taken the place of his work desk where he’d once made lockpicks. She was putting together a playlist- or trying to. Uniting the musical tastes of eight college students was almost as difficult as getting them all in one room. Almost.  
  
“Hey, shitlord,” Futaba said.

“Hm?” Akira looked up from his seat on the floor. Makoto and Ryuji were sprawled across his legs, watching some MMA fight on Ryuji’s phone. “What’s up?”  
  
“I need you to head down to the Triple Seven and get some snacks.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because I’m hungry?”  
  
“Fine,” Akira said. “Pass me my wallet?”  
  
Futaba reached out her hand, making grabby motions.  
  
“Nope. Can’t get it. It’s too far.”  
  
Akira sighed and stood up, grabbing his wallet off the computer desk, six inches from Futaba’s hand. He smiled, and thwapped her on the head with it, tossing it back down on the desk.  
  
“Brat.”  
  
“Bite me.”  
  
The stairwell creaked as Sojiro clambered up into the attic, smiling wryly at the cuddle pile on his floor.  
  
“What, are you throwing some kind of party up here?” Sojiro muttered.  
  
“It’s always a party when Akira’s around, sir,” Ryuji said.  
  
“Hmph. Ain’t that right,” Sojiro said. His gaze drifted to the whiteboard. “What’s this?”  
  
“Oh!” Makoto got to her feet. “That’s, um… you see, sir…”  
  
Sojiro studied the circle of names, linked together in multicolored lines. He frowned. “...This isn’t one of those ‘jelly bracelet’ things, is it?”  
  
“No no no no no!” Makoto said quickly.  
  
“I mean, it _could_ be, if you weren't _cowards_ ,” Futaba muttered.  
  
“Jelly bracelets? Is that some kind of candy?” Shiho wondered, oblivious.  
  
“It’s not,” Akira said firmly.  
  
“I… Look, it’s none of my business,” Sojiro said, uncomfortable. “Listen, I’m gonna close up shop. Don’t forget to lock up, alright, son?”  
  
“I won’t, D-” Akira caught himself, but it was too late. Everyone was looking at him.  
  
“Aww!” Haru cooed.  
  
“The paperwork hasn’t gone through yet!” Futaba hissed.  
  
Akira stuck his hands in his pockets, weathering the teasing. He couldn’t keep the smile from his face.  
  
Sojiro cleared his throat. “...You, uh. You kids have fun, alright? But not… _too_ much fun.”  
  
“We won’t, sir,” Makoto said.  
  
“She’ll make sure of it,” Ann said, clinging to her arm. Makoto playfully swatted her away.  
  
Sojiro smiled and shook his head. “You kids…”  
  
Sojiro disappeared down the steps.  
  
The attic at Leblanc fell into a comfortable, intimate quiet. Ann’s hand closed around Makoto’s wrist, and she let her pull her down onto the floor, she and Shiho nuzzling into her like cats. Haru was coiled up on the futon, not unlike a cat herself, chatting with Yusuke about plans to decorate the house while he sat drawing her, a sketchbook on his lap. Ryuji was sprawled out in the middle of the floor, one hand in Ann’s hair, the other one poking at his phone. He dropped his phone flat on his chest and looked up. Ryuji reached up, grabbed hold of Futaba’s computer chair, and gave her another spin. She laughed as she went around, Akira’s hand smoothing against her hair as she came to a stop.  
  
Akira smiled- and wasn’t convinced he had ever _stopped_ smiling, not since he’d returned after a year away from Tokyo, not since he’d come home to this tangled mess of limbs and hearts. He caught Makoto’s eyes across the pile.  
  
“It’s good to get everyone together, isn’t it?” Akira said.  
  
“Even if it’s like herding cats,” Makoto mused.  
  
“Hey,” Ryuji said, his voice breaking the warm quiet. “Now that we’re all here…”  
  
Ryuji sat up, suddenly aware everyone was looking at him. He grinned.  
  
“...Do you guys want to make out?”  
  
There was a pause, and a murmur. Ryuji blinked, not expecting anyone to actually consider it.  
  
“Um,” Ann said quietly. “I’d, uh. I’d be down.”  
  
Akira snickered. Then his wallet hit him in the face.  
  
“Hey!” Futaba said. “I still want those snacks!’  
  
Akira shook his head and smiled, picking his wallet up off the floor and carefully stepping through the tangle of limbs.  
  
“Don’t have _too_ much fun while I’m gone,” Akira said. “Makoto, you’re in charge.”  
  
“Understood,” Makoto smiled.  
  
Akira took one last glimpse at the chart before heading downstairs. It felt strange to say, but he was glad they had taken the time to write it all down. It felt more real that way. More solid.  
  
Not any more solid than the party going on in the attic, but still.  
  
Scheduling was going to be an issue, he was sure. He technically had a cafe to run. Makoto, Yusuke, Haru, and Shiho were all going to different schools, and into different fields. Futaba was taking online courses, which, along with ‘me time’, meant she was cooped up in her room and unavailable. Ann was an actress, so her schedule was a mess. And Ryuji, well… Ryuji was still figuring things out.  
  
Just like they all were, really.  
  
Still, after all this time...  
  
It was good to get everyone together.  
  
~*~


End file.
